


Regrets

by mustangisinflames



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Modern AU, Regrets, Sad, Slow Build, Swearing, i guess?, maybe? - Freeform, reflective, very light descriptions of smut, will be adding tags later, will have a continuation, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6646594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustangisinflames/pseuds/mustangisinflames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoro has come in and out of Sanji's life for years and as much as Sanji hates it, he can't stand to push Zoro out once and for all in the hopes that maybe, one day, he might just get an answer as to why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> So this came from a prompt from an anonymous person on Tumblr who dropped a request for a ZoSan one shot about regrets. However, this is now a short (or maybe long, I don't know yet) fic about Zoro having pushed Sanji out of his life until one night he comes back, bloodied and injured. With Zoro unconscious and now in hospital Sanji reflects on what happened and whether there's enough pieces left between him and Zoro to ever fix what happened. That's as best as I can sum it up haha

Sanji had known Zoro for years, ever since Zoro had first moved into the house next door. He remembered that day well, the hours he’d spent sat at the window in the living room of the flat above Zeff’s restaurant ‘The Baratie’, simply watching the boxes being carted out of the moving van and being hauled into the house across the street. He could recall easily the young boy getting out of the car, headphones on, a scruff of green hair, and a sulky look on his slightly chubby face- a ten year old that clearly hadn’t wanted to move at all. He remembered that sour look turn distastefully on the street, a glower so toxic it could have disintegrated the brickwork of every building, before he skulked off inside.

Sanji had been a curious child as far back as he could remember, and his time on the streets in his younger years before social services found him had made him distrusting of anyone new. So it was both exciting and nerve-wracking to be stood on the step of such a big strange house, with strange people inside that he didn’t know and when he was confused Sanji put on a front; that he was tough, that he wasn’t scared at all. Zeff had offered to knock the door for him but Sanji’s pride, still as big as ever, made him decline the kindly offer and he rapped it himself with his little knuckles.

The door opened and Sanji could recall it clear as day, that first time he’d seen Zoro. Rounded cheeks with a slight dimple at the left corner of his mouth that kept sucking in as he chewed on some gum, darker skin that was marked in some places- his hands, his neck- by moles, scabbed grazes, and an even darker birthmark on his shoulder. There was a somewhat cunning look in his eyes. He looked once at Zeff and, blowing a bubble, looked at Sanji with an immediate scowl, “What the hell is wrong with your eyebrow?”

Sanji kicked him to the ground, Zeff having to prize them apart.

They swiftly became friends after that day and Sanji in no time got to know Zoro and his adoptive father, Koshiro. He came to learn why there was an extra girl in the photos on the walls that Zoro never talked about. Her name was Kuina and she became known to Sanji as the ‘it’s none of your business’ girl, as Zoro had so eloquently put it. Sanji couldn’t exactly recount the reason why he ever pressed about it but he remembered it was late spring coming on summer and he’d just celebrated his twelfth birthday (Zoro was a few months older than him). Zoro’s house had a huge garden and they had sat under one of the apple trees that grew there; Sanji eating lunch, and Zoro messing with some of the fallen blossoms from the tree.

“Was Kuina nice?” He asked, and Zoro visibly tensed.

“What does it matter to you? I told you not to ask about her.” Zoro replied tersely, not looking up from his pile of wilting blossoms.

Sanji had let his eyes wander to the plaque that Koshiro had put up on one of the garden walls, the letters that spelled out Kuina’s name starting to tarnish ever so slightly from the rain they’d been having and there were two dates on it. Sanji knew what it was, he wasn’t little anymore and he could put two together and figure it out.

“Kuina’s dead, isn’t she?” He whispered.

“Shut up,” Zoro said.

Sanji didn’t shut up, “How did she die?”

“I said don’t ask about her!” Zoro shouted, fisting the poor flowers into his palm.

“Okay.” Sanji said, expecting Zoro to drop it, slightly worried that the older boy would demand some sort of confrontation and Zoro suddenly didn’t sound nice at all when he yelled.

“No.” Zoro snapped, “Not okay.”

And that was the first time Sanji had ever been punched.

Koshiro had come out, scolding when he saw Zoro with a raised fist and Sanji on the floor with a red mark up his face from being struck. Sanji didn’t cry at the punch, too shocked to comprehend what had happened, but he cried at what Zoro said next.

“I hate you, I hate you! I thought you were my friend! Go away, I hate you!”

Sanji had cried for hours over that, wishing he hadn’t heard it at all.

They barely spoke after that, even when they put in the same class in high school; it was as though Zoro had a personal grudge against him after that. Sanji was hurt by the rejection but soon moved on- girls had sure become a lot more interesting when he’d reached fifteen.

Zoro... came back into his life when they were seventeen but it was different somehow. Sanji had grown taller and his hair was longer and his legs were stronger now that Zeff was teaching him the more professional techniques of savate and Zoro had grown too, in both height and width with his stocky build no doubt gained from his kendo training. Those rounded cheeks had given way to sterner cheekbones and a more chiselled jaw line and the soft lobe of his left ear was pierced three times, but the moles and the birthmark and the green hair were still there, reminding him that this handsome creature was in fact the bratty punk who’d first greeted him via insult.

Sanji, secretly, was overjoyed to have his old friend back in his life and they soon fell back into the routine of calling each other those childish nicknames ‘marimo’ and ‘curly-brow’. It was like they were picking up where they’d left off. Zoro expressed that he had forgiven Sanji for all those years ago and that he wanted to be friends again. Sanji was more than happy to accept the offer but something was definitely different.

Perhaps it was something in the way Zoro looked at him with those dark eyes, or maybe it was in the way that his hand lingered ever so closely to his when they sat together, and maybe those ‘accidental’ brushes of skin weren’t so accidental and maybe those ‘coincidentally being free’ moments whenever Sanji was going out with the gang weren’t so coincidental. Either way, this Zoro was very different.

It finally happened when Sanji was nineteen and, admittedly, it wasn’t exactly the best sex he’d ever had regardless of it being technically his first time. Zoro had been clumsy and Sanji equally so, more desperate to get each other off than they were interested in preparation. It had been slightly painful, but more uncomfortable than anything and he and Zoro never brought up that sexual encounter again, thank God. But nothing had hurt more than when he woke up the morning after and Zoro was gone. He hadn’t even left a note and Sanji didn’t turn up to Sixth Form that day out of sheer shame that he might have done something wrong.

Zoro barely looked him in the eyes after that and though they spoke it was only ever small talk. It hurt to think that Zoro had perhaps only been interested in him just to get off but he knew he had to move on and get over him- there were more people than just Zoro. 

Except there wasn’t really, was there? No matter what his mind always trailed back somehow to Zoro, whether it was the handsome green haired man, or that bratty ten year old child who’d punched him in the face. It hurt to admit it but he missed Zoro. He really did.

The pain lessened over time, or perhaps Sanji was just that good at repressing things he didn’t want to remember, and plans for university were drafted and then scrapped to the decision that he’d take a chef’s apprenticeship under Zeff and the restaurant. Luffy left for travels and came back every so often to regale him with his tales of adventure and distribute presents from other countries. Nami made her money as an entrepreneur and ran her own bank, finally settling down with Vivi Nefertari; a high school romance that had lasted. Usopp got himself that tattoo shop he’d always wanted and business was going well for him- he’d given Sanji his first tattoo; a sleeve of gorgeous marine life and ocean waters with tens of exotic fish down the right arm and Sanji loved it to pieces. Chopper, ever the child prodigy, was accepted into medical school at the age of fifteen, and Robin and Franky got married and Zoro was there for the reception but he’d vanished as soon as the celebrations began which was a shame; that was the first time he’d seen the man in months. And Brook, a friend he’d made through Luffy, had gone off for a tour to play in orchestras across the world. Sanji couldn’t help but feel that what he’d done with his life wasn’t as grand as the other’s but he was happy and content with his lot.

What Zoro had been doing in that time, Sanji never really knew, but it was a shock to him that night when he’d opened the front door to answer that horrendous banging to see Zoro half slumped against the doorframe, his face more blood than actual features. There was an awful gash across the left side of his face and Sanji had rushed to catch him in his arms to prevent his fall to the floor. The rest of that evening was a blur of emergency lights and the stench of bleached surfaces. 

Zoro had lost his left eye.

The days had been so slow after that, sluggishly creeping into weeks and Sanji was getting tired of clinical smells and steady heart monitors and eyes that wouldn’t open. He’d hated himself for staying day after day at Zoro’s side while he slept on when the only thanks he’d most likely get is a brutal push out of Zoro’s life again. But he couldn’t leave him, could he? Despite everything Zoro had done to him over the years, Sanji couldn’t deny him the comfort of at least one friend, could he?

“You know, I loved you once,” Sanji had said as he sat there, hand resting over Zoro’s, “I probably still do.” He laughed but it was a hollow noise, “I’m stupid like that, aren’t I? Even after all the shit you put me through and I still love you. Stupid, idiot moss head.”

And it was true. So awfully, painfully true. Perhaps it had happened during those years in Sixth Form, perhaps it had been before that – he had no clue – but Sanji had somehow given more of his heart than he’d intended to Zoro. And now that good-for-nothing idiot was here, reminding him of every mistake he’d ever made with the green haired moron.

God damnit...

Zoro said nothing, just breathed steadily, in and out. Sanji drew in a shaky breath, “I just want a reason why you did what you did. Did you ever love me?”  
Zoro’s fingers twitched and Sanji held onto his hand a little tighter. He didn’t know if it had been a reaction to stimuli or just a random muscle spasm but he held onto the hope that Zoro could hear him, wherever he was.

Zoro wheezed suddenly in his sleep – he did that a lot lately – and began coughing, clouding up the oxygen mask over his mouth. Sanji sighed, wearily or sadly – he didn’t even know anymore – and put a reassuring hand over Zoro’s wrist, his other hand hovering over the nurse alarm in case the coughing fit got any worse. The jerking movements and hacks subsided and the need to call for a nurse went with it. Sanji awkwardly rubbed his thumb in a comforting motion on Zoro’s skin, “It’s okay.” He said.

But was it?

“I’m here.” Sanji tried but the words sounded wrong coming out of his mouth. Why was he here? After everything Zoro put him through? Sanji didn’t think he even knew the man now lying unconscious in front of him. Not anymore. Did Sanji even want to be here with this man who’d pushed him away time and time again? 'Zoro deserves to be pushed away for once', Sanji thought maliciously, 'He deserves to know what it feels like'. But he couldn’t do it, could he? Even after everything, Sanji didn’t have the heart to push Zoro out once and for all... He forced a half smile that surely looked awful and out of place on his face.

“I’m here, Zoro.” He repeated and he was certain he was reassuring himself more than he was Zoro.

God damn it, he was weak.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be sad at times, just a fair warning.  
> Comments and constructive criticism is welcome as long as you are polite (no rudeness please).  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
